Indoor Miniature Golf: Apartment Style
by Katherine Morris
Summary: Maureen wants to go mini golfing, but Joanne says it's too hot outside. So they compromise, and with fruit smoothies. MoJo fluff. Don't own Rent.


**Indoor Miniature Golf: Apartment Style.**

"Joanne, our lives are so boring."

The words slipped out of her pursed lips so delicately, and wafted through the stale air of the apartment. It was mid-August, Joanne had taken off from work for the week to spend time with her lover, but the diva just couldn't sit still. The lawyer assumed it had something to do with the scorching summer temperatures and the lack of clothing in the chilled, air-conditioned apartment.

Maureen tucked her teased brown curls behind her pale ears, snuggling against Joanne's side in her black lace lingerie.

"What do you mean 'our lives are boring'? I'm a lawyer and you're a performance artist, we live in New York City, and we're friends with a quirky group of bohemians." The lawyer mused, watching Maureen's eyes light up with a familiar fire, the same one she had in her brown eyes as last night. "Maureen, it's not even noon and you're thinking about that?"

"No, I was just imaging you in a bikini. There is a difference, babe." The diva retorted defensively, pressing a loving kiss against the lawyer's cheek and walking her fingertips along the other's thigh. Joanne was wearing a tank top and shorts, but the chill of the apartment made the cuddling necessary; she needed to feel Maureen's body against hers for the extra bit of heat.

"Let's go mini golfing." Maureen perked up, shifting next to Joanne to stand up, extending her slightly muscular slender arms, wiggling her fingers happily. "Please?"

"It's so hot outside, though, Maureen. I thought we were going to stay in today."

"We can stay in, and still mini golf. Don't you have those plastic golf putts I bought last month?"

"They're in the closet… but, Maureen,"

The diva held two fingers to Joanne's lips, wearing a sweet smile. "You go make us some fruit smoothies, virgin please, and I'll set up our mini golf course. Okay?"

"Sure…" The lawyer could barely even manage that. She folded her arms over her chest as she watched Maureen saunter away, towards their bedroom. The way she swayed her hips was totally worth watching.

"I don't hear that blender!" Maureen called from the bedroom happily, and Joanne recomposed herself, scrambling to the kitchen. She moved into the refrigerator and pulled out the carton of strawberries, a banana, two kiwis, a small container of vanilla yogurt, and a smaller container of granola. Reaching into a drawer, she pulled out a small pairing knife, and laid out the fruits on the countertop cutting board.

While Joanne contentedly worked the fruits and blender, Maureen opened the sliding closet door and bit her lip, looking for the plastic golf putts and the plastic golf balls to go with the set. It had come with two putts and two balls: one putt and ball set was hot pink and the other set was a neon lime color. Maureen had claimed the green because she thought it was cute how Joanne would pout when she had to use the pink set.

Once she found the putts and balls, she laid them on their bed. Now she had to find a way get them holes to put the balls into… "Stop thinking about sex," She scolded herself in a whisper, gently hitting her forehead as she sat on the edge of the bed in thought.

"Plastic cups!" She cried triumphantly, standing up immediately. Joanne looked up from chopping the banana carefully, nearly cutting off her forefinger because Maureen startled her so much.

"Honeybear, please don't scare me like that! I almost chopped my finger off," The lawyer cried back in subtle anguish, moving the chopped banana pieces into the blender, with the previously cut kiwi slices.

"Sorry, Jo; Do we have plastic cups?"

"Yeah, under the bathroom sink."

Maureen moved into the bathroom and smiled when she found the plastic cups right where Joanne had said they were. That was one great thing about Joanne being a lawyer: she was so efficient and always knew where everything was when they needed it… except for Maureen's vibrator the other night, but that's a-totally-nother story to tell.

Opening the plastic package, she pulled out nine cups. Tucking the package away again, she carried the cups into the bedroom.

"Do we have index cards and Sharpies?"

"My briefcase, the front pocket," The lawyer responded.

Setting the cups up around their bedroom, the bathroom, and the hallway, she marked each cup with an index card, which read the number and the par for the hole. She taped down another index card to the start of each hole, to mark where they had to hit their first putt from.

Wiping the slight accumulation of sweat from her forehead, she smiled triumphantly. Taping a few index cards together, she furrowed her brow and thought about what she could call this miniature golf course she had just created. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Maureen stroked her chin skeptically, before leaning back on the bed. She didn't have much time. The entire course was laid out to the way she wanted it, but she needed a name.

When she finally thought of one, she sprang back up, sitting erectly on the edge of the bed, grinning. Counting how many index cards she had, she taped the nine remaining and made them like a sign. Hanging said sign on the top of the doorframe outside of their bedroom, she moved into the kitchen, where she saw Joanne pouring the liquefied contents of the blender into two cups, placing a hot pink curly straw into one of them. That cup was obviously Maureen's, because that was her special straw.

"I didn't think you'd let me use my straw," Maureen smiled, crossing her arms over her chest. Joanne gave a slight laugh, before placing the blender pitcher into the sink. "Whoever loses has to do dishes."

"So, get ready to do dishes later," The lawyer smirked, walking towards the diva, handing over the cup with the straw. Maureen took a sip and immediately grinned.

"Mm. I love your smoothies!" She mused, before tugging Joanne by the hand into the bedroom. "I give you… The official Jefferson-Johnson Miniature Golf Course: it starts in the bedroom, goes to the bathroom, down the hall, and ends right in front of our overstuffed closet."

"It's only overstuffed because someone has nine outfits for every day of the year," Joanne muttered, and the diva warningly smacked her in the butt, but gently, not near enough to hurt. "Ouch,"

"You deserved that. You get first putt," Maureen smiled, handing over one of the plastic golf putts.

Nearly falling over when Joanne tucked her ball into the last hole with only one hit, far better than her four attempts, Maureen huffed in disbelief. Now she had to do dishes, because she lost by ten strokes: Joanne had 21 and the diva had 31 strokes.

"Looks like someone's doing dishes later," The lawyer wrapped an arm around Maureen's waist, rubbing her hip lightly. The diva gave a sour pout. "Aw, honey bear, I'm sorry. How about I help you do the dishes, okay?"

"Okay," Maureen replied, turning her head to press a kiss against Joanne's cheek.

"Hey, I love you."

"Hey, I love you, too." Joanne mocked, grinning cheekily.


End file.
